Comfort
by tarsus4survivor
Summary: Destiel AU where Dean and Cas are human and living together in an apartment with Sam and another roommate. Cas gets assaulted and Dean and Sam help him cope with the immediate aftermath-and non immediate, but that's not in the fic. Adult themes and language.


_A/N and Warning: Sexual assault aftermath and language, nothing explicit. The assault is with strangers and not between Dean and Cas. Some victim blaming but not from Sam or Dean. Sam and Dean help Cas cope. Dean loves Cas._

* * *

Cas has never been one to cry. It swells in his throat and his eyes, but he sets his jaw, refrains from blinking. They stole his key but he grabs the spare and enters the apartment he shares with Dean, Sam, and Uriel.

_They stole my key, they stole my key, they stole my key._ They might break in. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. He can't stop them. They don't know where the key leads, but that doesn't really mean anything does it? They could figure it out. 3B is engraved on the key, isn't it?

That's when he buries his face in his hands, clutching at his hair. He lets out a choked off sob but doesn't cry.

He can't block the door because that will block Dean and Sam and Uriel.

They might break in.

They took his phone too, so he can't even tell anyone. He could borrow Sam's laptop and email them, Cas supposes, but he can feel the stink and stick of his hands and doesn't want to touch anything. He's filthy.

Cas heads numbly toward his room, ready to pull out some clothes so he can shower. Instead he takes one look at his bed and curls up on his favorite blanket, eyes burning. He doesn't cry. Doesn't touch the blanket with his hands. Just buries his face in it and tries to breathe. He's filthy. Covered in it. He rips his coat off and throws it against the wall before reburying his face, choking on sobs but not crying, not crying, not crying.

A door clicks open and suddenly it's harder to breathe. Cas doesn't move. He can hear the footsteps, the breathing, and is relieved for a split second when it's Uriel's voice and not Dean's.

Until his brain unravels the words. "Oh my god, you're a little whore, aren't you?"

Cas stops breathing because that's the only way he can hold back the sob and keep from crying. He's covered in it, he knows. He stinks of it. He tries to shake his head.

"You're disgusting."

Cas chokes trying to hold his breath. His inhale shakes his whole body. He misses what Uriel says next because breathing consumes everything.

When Uriel's voice fades back in, it's sharp. "Get out."

"What?" Cas chokes, head lifting, rolling onto his back. He can't breathe. Please, no. He misheard.

Uriel's face is dark, his mouth in a thin line, his eyes hard. "I can't believe you would do this to Dean. Do you go looking for this every night he's gone?"

"No. No, Uriel."

Uriel's hands form fists. "If he doesn't kill you, I will."

Cas's blood runs cold. "What?" he chokes again, suddenly afraid to move.

"Get out."

Cas is frozen in place.

"I said get the hell out," Uriel shouts, jerking forward.

Cas flinches backward, scrambling to rise and get away but Uriel latches onto his arm and hauls him toward the door, not giving Cas time to get his legs beneath him. He drags Cas back through the living room and to the entry door, and Cas bangs into the couch and coffee table and door frame as they pass. Uriel throws him out.

"Don't come back." Uriel grabs the spare key and takes it in with him, slamming the door and locking it with a loud click.

Cas sits there on the floor, shaking and hyperventilating and manages to slide over to the wall. He falls onto his side and curls into a ball, back exposed to the hallway. That's when he starts to cry.

Every breath is a struggle and he's not sure he wants to take them anymore. He lays there and cries and cries and cries and the feeling of phantom hands haunt his skin.

He feels exposed but he doesn't have anywhere to go so he just curls tighter, wishing he could slip right through the wall. He doesn't know how long he lays there before footsteps pad across the carpet toward him.

Cas prays for whoever it is to leave him alone.

"Cas?" It's Sam's voice, confused and concerned and a little panicked.

Cas sobs harder, using his hands to shield his face. Sam will hate him.

"Cas!" Sam kneels down at his back, touches his arm.

Cas jolts into the wall with a choked off cry.

The hand retreats. "What happened?" Sam asks softly.

Cas shakes his head. Sam can tell surely, can smell it, can see it. "I'm sorry," he chokes, "I'm so sorry."

"Are you okay?" Sam's voice stays soft and Cas doesn't deserve it. He can't breathe. Every inhale hitches, and pretty soon he's just choking.

"I'm gonna touch you, okay?"

Cas can't breathe.

Sam's hand just brushes his arm, up and down and up and down. "Shhhh," he murmurs, "Just breathe, it's okay. You're gonna be okay. In and out, Cas."

Cas doesn't deserve this kindness. He wrenches his arm away, still choking on every breath.

Sam's hand hovers but doesn't touch. He scoots away so that his legs aren't quite touching Cas's back anymore, voice so gentle and soothing. "You have to breathe, Cas. Just focus on breathing, don't think about anything else. You're safe here." He just keeps murmuring words. "No one's gonna touch you. You're gonna be okay. Just breathe, in and out. In… and out…"

Cas starts to take deeper breaths, following the rhythm of his voice without meaning to.

"That's it. Just worry about breathing."

"I'm sorry," Cas sobs.

"I know. Don't worry about it. In… and out. Okay."

Cas's exhales smooth completely but his inhales still have a hitch that make his head shake.

"You good to go inside?"

Cas startles into the wall, head shaking. "No," he says, the word soft and fast.

"Okay," Sam soothes. "That's okay. We'll just sit out here for a while, just you and me."

"You can… go inside," Cas manages.

"I'm not gonna leave you alone out here," Sam says, so kind and gentle and _Sam_.

Cas sobs.

"I'm gonna call Dean, okay?"

Cas folds in on himself even tighter, so tight it hurts. "No, no, no, no."

"Shhh," Sam murmurs, because Cas's breathing is faltering again. "Okay. But he's gonna be home soon anyway."

There's a moment of breath that Cas is grateful for.

"Are you hurt?" Sam asks, almost hesitantly.

Cas can't stop crying. "I don't know," he breathes, fingers shaking where they meet his hairline. "Does it matter?" He murmurs the question so softly he doesn't expect Sam to hear it.

"Yes." But Sam doesn't ask again. "Why are you outside?" he asks instead.

Cas turns his face into the floor, face wet with tears.

"Cas?"

"Uriel," Cas whispers, wet.

"What?" Sam asks, and he probably didn't hear.

Cas doesn't repeat it.

"Did you say Uriel?" Sam asks, all in one exhale, something like horror or disgust in his voice.

Cas just nods numbly. "I'm sorry." He inhales shakily. "Dean's gonna kill me."

"Cas," Sam says, and there's too much in that word for Cas to decipher. "...what?" Sam says, like he can't think of anything else. Like he's piecing things together and doesn't like the picture.

Cas moves his arm higher up over his head.

"Did Uriel…"

Cas isn't sure what he's expecting the end of that sentence to be. Not what it is.

"...do this?"

Cas shakes his head. "No." He breathes.

Sam does too, letting out a long, shaky breath. "Thank god. Okay. What were you saying about him?"

"He…" Cas's breaths hitch. "...kicked me out," he says, and it comes out confused.

"He kicked you out?!" Sam repeats, voice rising.

Cas flinches into the wall.

Sam softens his voice. "Why?"

"I'm disgusting."

"Cas," Sam says, voice full. "No, just…. No." And then, "He kicked you out?" asked again, like Sam can't comprehend it, like he's not sure that's what Cas said.

Cas can't either. He goes over it in his mind, tears slowing finally. "Dragged me out," he breathes.

"_Dragged_ you…" Sam trails off. "What?"

Cas shakes his head and hunches his shoulders up. _If Dean doesn't kill you, I will_ echoes in his mind.

Sam goes silent.

Cas is too afraid to turn and look at him.

Sam gets up. Cas can hear it in the shift of his clothes and the lift of his breathing.

"Is Uriel here?" he asks, but his voice is not as soft as before.

Cas shrugs. His eyes flood with tears and he doesn't respond.

Fingers brush wood. "Spare key is gone," Sam notes quietly. "Uriel took it?"

"I'm sorry."

Sam slips a key into the lock and turns it with a familiar click. "I'll be right back," he murmurs almost darkly. "Just breathe."

The door snicks shut but doesn't lock.

Cas can hear a knock through the wall, then Uriel's voice pounding against the wood. "That sniveling whore wasn't still out there, was he?"

There's a crack and then a thud and someone cries out.

Cas curls into the wall and tries to breathe.

"Get out," Sam says, voice loud and sharp and cold.

"What the fuck!" shouts Uriel.

"Get. Out. You can come back tomorrow for your stuff. I'll try to keep Dean from throttling you," Sam spits.

Cas breathes. He doesn't have the wherewithal to parse out all the words.

"No! What the hell is this?! You can't kick me out!"

"But you can kick Cas out?!" Sam screams. Cas has never heard him so loud.

"Little bitch deserved it." Uriel says.

And Cas probably did. He digs his nails into hairline.

"You're not even gonna deny it," Sam realizes, voice hissing.

"The hell should I?"

"Get out."

"What'd the skank say? 'Cause he's a freakin' liar."

"Cas didn't say anything. Dean and I rent this place. I decide who stays. And if you're not out in the next ten seconds, I'm calling the landlord."

Uriel swears.

"The back!" Sam says hurriedly.

Uriel swears sharper.

Cas tries not to listen to the muttered threats. He just lays there and breathes. And he can, now, better and better. Sam's not kicking him out.

The door opens.

Cas uncovers his head and shifts to look. It's Sam, face as soft as his voice. "Wanna come inside now? Uriel's gone."

Cas nods, a few more tears escaping. He wipes at his face with his sleeve, other arm pushing him up to sitting. "I can...stay?"

"Yes, Cas."

Cas's lip trembles. He bites it.

"You want a hand?"

Cas shakes his head. He puts a hand on the wall and climbs to his feet, trying to hide how much he's shaking.

Sam holds the door wide open for him.

Cas staggers inside, hiding his hands. "Thank you."

"What do you need?"

"I just… I'm gonna…clean up," Cas says, eyes on the floor.

"Okay. Good idea." Sam is still and calm and careful. "Are you...okay?"

Cas shrugs. He starts toward his bedroom, trying not to walk strangely. He's not quite sure he succeeds.

"Do you… need the hospital or anything? Food? Some aspirin?"

"I think… I'm okay," Cas says.

"Okay. But if you do need anything, just ask."

"Thank you."

Sam nods. He takes a few steps toward the kitchen.

"I…"

Sam stops.

"I didn't want it," Cas says, and Sam's face falls. Cas goes on. "I don't… I would never betray Dean like that. I wouldn't...I don't do that. I don't, I swear. I'm sorry. I tried to…"

Sam shakes his head. "You don't have to explain. I believe you. Dean will too."

Cas's gaze shifts up, eyes wide. "You think so?"

"I know so. I can talk to him first if you want."

"Will you?" Cas's voice cracks and he hates it.

"Sure. I can call him while you get cleaned up."

"Okay. Thank you," Cas says, and then he trails to his room and closes the door while he grabs some clean clothes. He sets them on the bed and then grabs his trenchcoat from the corner because he doesn't want Dean to see it.

His eyes start burning again. He goes out of his room and to the kitchen, curling small as he shuffles past Sam to grab a garbage bag. Back to his room and he stuffs the trenchcoat inside, trying not to start crying again. He shuffles into the bathroom, locking it. He unbuttons his shirt with trembling hands. Filthy hands. He goes to the sink and washes them. Over and over and over, scrubbing at the skin. He chokes on a sob. He keeps trying to clean them.

Someone knocks on the door and he must have been rubbing his hands for longer than he thought because it's Dean's voice, warm and concerned. "Cas? You okay?"

Cas turns the faucet off and falls to the floor, crying again because he's helpless to stop it.

"Cas?"

"I'm sorry," Cas chokes, but he doubts Dean can hear.

"Can I come in?"

Cas doesn't respond. Can't.

"Can you unlock the door for me? Please?" Dean doesn't sound angry or disgusted, but surely Sam talked to him.

Cas gets up. He unlocks the door and then sinks back into his corner.

Dean snicks the handle open and slips inside.

Cas shouldn't have let Dean see him like this. He curls up, trying to hide what he can.

Dean falls to his knees a foot away, eyes heavy. "Hey, sweetheart. You okay?"

Cas shakes his head. "Dean, I'm so sorry."

Dean shakes his head back. "Hey, no. I forgive you. I don't really think there's anything I even need to forgive, but I don't know what happened, so if you think there is, then I forgive you."

Cas buries his face in his raw hands and can't stop crying.

"Can I hug you?" Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head. "I'm… dirty."

"Your clothes are, but I don't care. I still want to hug you."

Cas keeps his face hidden and nods numbly. "Okay."

Dean scoots forward slowly, gentle and slow as he wraps his arms around Cas's shaking shoulders. He doesn't move, doesn't rub, doesn't hold tight or tug Cas toward him. Just holds. "Okay," he murmurs. "You know I love you?"

"You can't."

"I do. I love you, Cas. You're perfect."

Cas shakes his head.

"You are. However you are," Dean whispers. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't know," Cas breathes, and the tears are slowly stopping. He's going numb.

Dean's breath comes out long and soft. "Okay. You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

Dean hums. "You wanna shower?"

Cas nods into his shoulder.

"You want me to help?"

Cas shakes his head.

"You want me to stay in here with you?"

Cas shakes his head again.

"Okay," Dean says, still holding him. "I'll give you a half hour before I start to get worried, okay?"

That's three times as long as Cas usually takes. "Okay."

"If… you are hurt… you'll let me know?"

"Yeah," Cas exhales.

"Okay. I love you, Cas. Me and Sam are here for you, whatever you need."

"Thank you. I… I love you too."

Dean brushes his thumb over Cas's shoulder, hesitant and gentle and soft, almost like a question, and Cas loves it. "I'll be in our room," he murmurs, "and you can tell me what you need, okay?"

Cas nods.

"Okay." Dean pulls back.

Cas uses his still-trembling hands to wipe at his face because his hands are the only thing clean.

"Lock the door if you need to, but I'd like to be able to come in if you need help. It's your choice, though. Whatever makes you comfortable."

Cas nods mutely.

"Okay." The door starts to close.

"Wait."

It opens back up.

"I...they...stole my key. To the apartment. You should...block the doors or something. Just in case."

Dean nods. "Anything else?"

Cas shakes his head.

"I love you," Dean tells him. The door snicks shut.

Cas breathes. He locks the door. He gets his clothes off, stuffs them into the trash bag. He throws up. There's blood on his underwear.

He showers mindlessly. And then turns the water off and wraps himself in a towel—ruins it, probably—and just sits because he's bleeding. Sits awkwardly because it hurts. He's bleeding and he doesn't want to ruin his clothes. He just sits there and breathes and breathes and breathes and doesn't cry. He dries sitting there and at some point there's a soft knock bringing him out of his head and into the world.

"You okay in there?"

Cas doesn't respond. Can't find the words.

"Cas?"

Cas breathes, hating that it's still not smooth. He doesn't know what to say.

"You gotta talk to me, okay? Let me know you're okay."

Cas has to hold his breath to hold back the tears so he can't respond.

"Just say 'I'm still conscious, Dean, leave me alone.'"

Cas chokes on a shuddery little laugh, huffing for breath.

"Just say something, Cas. Anything. I'm freakin' out out here."

"I'm still…" Cas chokes off. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

"What? What was that?"

"I'm conscious," he manages.

"Okay."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

Cas breathes. "...I'm hurt."

Dean exhales. "Okay. What do you need?"

"I don't know."

"Can I come in?"

Cas can't breathe. "I don't know."

There's a moment of heavy silence. Too heavy. Then, "Are you bleeding?" murmured through the door.

"Yes," he chokes.

"Cas, I can't hear you. Talk to me." Dean is so soft.

"Yes," Cas says, louder.

"Can I please come in?"

Cas doesn't want to move to unlock the door.

"Please, Cas, come on. You're scaring me."

"One minute," Cas says, and tries to compose himself a little. He mostly just breathes. Tries to breathe.

"Okay," Dean says, soothing. Cas isn't sure which one of them he's soothing.

A minute passes. Two. Three. "I'm not dressed," Cas says.

"I don't care. Do you care? Put something on if you want, just… unlock the door, Cas. Please."

So Cas wraps his towel tighter and unlocks the door.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

Dean slips through the door, eyes on Cas immediately. On his eyes. "You're hurt? Do you need help? A hospital? What do you need?"

Cas sinks down. "I don't know."

Dean grabs his own towel and wraps it around Cas's shoulders and suddenly Cas is crying again.

"Can I hug you?"

Cas nods.

Dean moves to his side, wraps his arms around him. "Okay. Shhhh, you're okay. You'll be okay."

Dean has never been so patient. He's struggling with it, dying to ask. He holds out longer than Cas expects him to. "You're bleeding?"

There are drops of blood in the tub, on the rim, on the floor.

"Can I see? Is it… down there?"

Cas holds onto him, like that will keep Dean from moving, from checking. "I don't want you to see it."

"Cas, if you're bleeding, someone's gotta see. It could be internal, something could be torn. You might need a hospital. Stitches."

"I don't care."

"Cas." Dean pulls back a little, but Cas won't look at him. "I care."

"Just stay with me."

"Cas, I don't care what happened. I care about you. I need to make sure you're… okay. And I love you. Whatever happened. Whatever it looks like."

Cas buries his face, careful not to move his legs. "I don't think I wanna bottom anymore."

"God, Cas. You know I don't care. I don't care if you never wanna have sex with me ever again. I care about _you_."

"I don't want you to see it."

"Okay." Dean brushes a thumb over his shoulder, a small movement, light and brief. "Who do you want? Hospital?"

"No." Cas clutches him closer. "God, that's worse. No."

"Cas. I just wanna help you. Just let me look, okay, and if it's not bad, and I don't think it is 'cause there's not too much blood, you won't need a hospital. I'll just clean it and wrap it. It's not gonna make me love you any less."

"You don't know that."

"If anything, it'll make me love you more. How strong you are to go through that. To make it home to me."

"Dean."

"How 'bout we start small, okay? You've got some nasty looking bruises. Would it make you uncomfortable if I put some salve over them?"

"I guess not. The high ones." Cas's eyes widen and he amends, "Not the high…the... you know…"

Dean shifts closer, setting his chin on Cas's head. "I know. There's some salve right in here somewhere. You know Sam, always has to be prepared."

Cas breathes. Shaky inhale, smooth exhale. "Maybe you should stop teasing him about it."

Dean hums. "Maybe I should. I'm gonna grab it, okay?" Dean waits for Cas to nod before he moves. "Okay." He pulls open the cupboards below the sink. Rifles through them. Slow, calm, careful.

Cas just breathes.

Dean pulls something out and shuffles around. Scoots back over slowly. Stops without touching. He gestures. "You've got one on your cheek, there."

Cas nods, thankful that Dean isn't pushing anything. "You can put the salve on it."

Dean nods back, face kind. "Okay." He puts some salve on his hand. Reaches forward slow and soft and careful.

Cas doesn't move.

Dean's fingers brush his cheek. "This okay?"

Cas doesn't want to move his head to nod. "Yes."

"Okay. Just tell me if it's not, okay? Or if you need a moment. You're not bleedin' bad, we don't got no place to be, so there's no hurry."

"It's okay."

"Okay," Dean murmurs. He rubs the salve in. Pulls back. "There's some on your throat."

"Okay."

"I can put salve on 'em?"

"Yeah. That's what 'okay' means."

"Just makin' sure." Dean's hand pulls forward.

Cas pulls back, terror spiking through him.

Dean stops. Retreats. "Maybe we'll leave those ones alone a minute. Or you could rub it in."

"We'll leave 'em."

"Okay."

Cas relaxes a little bit. He shifts Dean's towel around his shoulders. "My arm hurts," he says.

"Yeah, you got some bruises. Can I put some salve on them?"

Cas nods.

"Okay. Just tell me if you're not okay. I can back up. I will back up. Even leave, if you need me to."

"I know."

"Don't feel bad about asking."

"Dean, my arm hurts."

"Okay." Dean sidles to the side a little. Brings his arm up and rubs some salve over the darkening marks on his shoulder and upper arm. "Can I keep going?"

"Yeah."

Dean goes lower, gets the rest of the bruises on the arm. "Looks like you scraped your knuckles a little bit, huh?"

"Punched 'em," says Cas, and Dean's grin is proud. "I'll bet you did." He lifts Cas's hand carefully, looks at it. "You clean 'em in the shower?"

"Yeah."

"Want me to wrap 'em?"

"Okay."

"You're doin' okay, right?" Dean asks.

"Yeah."

"I love you, Cas."

Cas watches him rifle with the kit on the floor. "Why?"

Dean stills. He looks up, face full of something Cas can't decipher. "_You_…" he shakes his head but he's smiling. "You're so... it's like…" His smiles turns to almost laughter, "I don't know. You're funny and handsome and freakin' brilliant. And it's so cute, you know, all your weird facts and your honey collection and it's like you see things that I don't, you know? And I love it. I love how much you love it. And I love that I can just be myself with you, love that you don't take my bullshit and you throw it right back in my face and you're just so much fun to be around. And you and Sam are such nerds together and you don't give a crap what I think about it because you like it. And I love that about you. I love it, Cas. You're amazing. Talented and smart and strong and sweet and you care about me, but you respect me and you listen to me and you trust me and you're thoughtful and cleverly creative and stubborn as hell and just perfect. How the hell could I not love someone like that? I'm just glad Sam didn't get to you first." He shakes his head, looking Cas right in the eye, smile bursting on his face. "And you're so goddamn handsome."

Cas starts crying again.

"Hey," Dean murmurs. "Hey, hey, hey, shhhh. I mean every word, okay? I could write a whole book on why I love you. And not like a little book either. Like one of your books. Like War and Peace. But awesome, because War and Peace was crappy and I can't believe you made me read it. I love that you made me read it. God, Cas, I love you."

"I love you too," Cas sobs.

"I'm sorry I made you cry. You okay?"

"I'm okay," but he can barely get the words out. "Really."

"Okay. Shhhh. Okay."

"Hug me?"

"Yeah." And then Dean's wrapping carefully around him.

Cas has to wait a moment before he can breathe. "You really don't care if we never have sex again?"

"I really don't care. We'll do as much or as little as we're both comfortable with. Even if it means we don't kiss or cuddle or sit too close together. And if this is the last hug I ever get, it'll hurt, but that's alright. We won't do anything you're not okay with. Just like I expect you to respect my boundaries and not do anything I'm not okay with, right?"

Cas nods.

"It might take some time to figure out those boundaries, so if you ever find that you're not comfortable, just tell me. I'm serious, Cas."

Cas nods.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. You can do the salve if you want."

"Okay. I'll do your other arm, that alright?"

Cas nods.

"Okay." Dean doesn't let go.

"It's not our last hug."

Dean's voice comes out strained. "Okay." He lets go. Rubs at his face. Grabs the salve, spreads it over his fingers, shuffles to Cas's other side. "Can I go ahead?"

"Yeah."

"Promise to punch me if I get too close. Though I'd like some warning first."

Cas huffs. "Promise."

Dean does his arm. And then his back. But Cas is panicking when he goes to do his chest and legs-even way down low at his ankles.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I swear, Cas, not gonna touch you if you don't want it. We don't have to do the bruises and scrapes. But… how 'bout… could I just... look… from afar, kinda, see if I can tell what's bleeding without touching you?"

Cas shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I can't… lay like that and have you… I can't."

"Okay. What about I leave and steal Sam's camera and you can take a picture all by yourself and then we can maybe see what's wrong and you can fix it up yourself by feel and with the picture?"

"And then burn it?"

"Sure."

Cas rubs his face, fingers pressing at his eyes. "I could try that."

"Okay. I'll be right back. I'll knock before I come in, okay?"

Cas nods.

Dean hesitates at the door, looking at Cas. "So damn handsome." The door slicks shut.

Dean comes back with a handheld mirror-god knows where he got it; a neighbor, probably-and Sam's camera.

"Can you do this?" Dean asks.

Cas nods.

"You want to?"

Cas nods again.

"I'll be right outside, okay? Lock the door if you need to."

Cas needs to.

His hands are shaking. They feel gross. They are gross. He doesn't want to touch Sam's camera.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Don't cry.

Don't think.

Cas does what he needs to almost robotically. Step by step. Grab the camera. Turn it on. Move the towel. Get the angle. Step by step until he gets the photo. Looks at it. Keeps going on automatic. Detached. Find the problem. He keeps going until it's done, the photo deleted. He dresses. Unlocks the door and walks out. Don't think, don't think, don't think.

"Cas?" That's Dean.

Cas's eyes burn. Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.

"You okay?"

And he's crying again. He can't _breathe_. God, Cas hates crying. He doesn't know if he wants to hug Dean and never let go or punch him hard and fast and doesn't know why. "Can I go to bed now?" He asks instead, hands over his face.

"Sure. Where do you want to sleep?"

"In bed."

"Okay. Can I touch your back?"

Cas nods.

Dean sets a hand on Cas's back and gently guides him to their room and over to the bed. "Where do you want me to sleep?"

"In here."

"Where?"

Cas digs his fingers into his eyes. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. You stupid idiot. "By the door? I'm sorry."

"Shhhhh. It's okay, Cas. We'll figure it out as we go."

"Can… Sam sleep in here too? I don't… I don't want them to break in. He can't be alone."

Dean rubs circles into his back. "Cas, breathe. No one's gettin' in. Me and Sam made sure of it, okay? You really want him to sleep in here?"

Cas nods. Sobs into his hands. "I don't even know why."

"That's okay. I'll go get him. He won't mind, you know Sam. We'll pull his mattress in here and sleep by the door, that okay?"

Cas nods. "Okay."

"Okay. You want me to wait a minute so you can…" Dean gestures vaguely.

"I can't stop crying, I'm sorry."

"Shhh," Dean murmurs, "I don't care. It's okay. I just wasn't sure if you cared. Plus you're kinda scarin' me, gaspin' like that."

Cas struggles to breathe.

"Do you want to be alone?"

Cas chokes, "I don't know. No."

"You want me to get Sam?"

"_Please?_"

"Sure, Cas." But Dean hesitates. "You weren't… aren't… hurt bad, right? You got it all… you're okay?"

Cas nods, throat too thick for anything else.

"Okay," Dean breathes.

Cas doesn't cry himself to sleep. He stares numbly at the wall, trying not to think. There're little bumps all over, look at that. The paint coat doesn't look uniform in this lighting. Feel how coarse those blankets are. God, Cas loves these blankets. Don't think, don't think, don't think. He shifts. Moves his head so he's staring at Dean's back. Sam's back just past him. He stares and stares and stares. He cries.

He doesn't remember falling asleep. He wakes sick and terrified with hands all over his skin. He falls out of bed, lands roughly on the floor, and finds Dean. Dean, who's rolled over and is asleep facing him. Cas breathes. Crawls back into bed. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. He goes back to sleep. Tries to. He just lays there, eyes open, staring at the bumps in the wall.

He wakes up shouting. Eyes flying open, shoving at invisible assailants. He can feel them. He falls off the bed again, on his side and back and someone drops down next to him, and Cas scrambles backward.

"Cas, Cas, Cas, look at me. Cas, you're okay." Their form doesn't move.

"Don't touch me!" Cas screams.

"I'm not. I'm not. You're okay. I'm not gonna touch you. Cas, it's me. It's Dean. You're home, you're safe, you're okay."

"Don't touch me."

"Cas, please, just look at me."

"I don't… want…"

"_Cas_."

"I'm sorry."

"Will you look at me, sweetheart?"

Cas looks around. Looks anywhere else. His eyes alight on the wide open door. His unobstructed pathway to it. The mattress on the ground. "Dean."

"Yeah. Cas, will you look at me?"

Cas's head turns of its own accord. His eyes lock onto Dean's.

"You're safe. Okay? You're home. You want me to leave?" Hands up in surrender, in a barely balanced crouch, and Cas could easily knock him over. Run before Dean can cross the distance between them.

Cas shakes his head mutely.

"You want me to move back?"

Cas shakes his head. "Just… don't move. For a minute. Did I…" he looks around again. Dark out. "...wake you?"

"Cas, are you okay?"

"Yeah." Cas looks around. "Sam's gone." Waiting outside in case he does run. Leaving him alone with Dean. Maybe getting ra—

"Yeah."

"Where is he?"

"In his room. While I… help you after that nightmare."

"Oh." Nightmare. Cas had a nightmare. A real live nightmare. Remembers it. "Right. Sorry I woke you."

"Cas…"

"I… what time is it?"

"Two in the morning, maybe."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay. I don't mind. Sam didn't mind. What do you need?"

Cas stares out the door. The question Dean asked falls before he catches it. "He shouldn't be out there alone."

"I could go get him."

Cas turns. "You shouldn't be out there alone."

"Cas, we blocked the doors. No one's goin' out anywhere."

"They took my wallet," Cas realizes.

Dean looks at him sadly.

"They have our address. They have my key."

"We blocked the doors, I promise. You wanna see? Let's go see?" Dean's hand moves but nothing else. "And then we'll get Sam and go back to bed with everyone safe, how's that sound?"

"Okay."

"Okay." Dean doesn't move. "You wanna lead or…?"

"Um…" Cas pushes to his feet, hunching small. "Okay." But Cas doesn't move either. Just stares at the doorway. "Sam's out there?"

"Yeah, Cas. You okay?"

Cas nods mutely.

"I could go first if you want."

"It's just… they could be… waiting… You should call Sam first."

"We blocked the doors, they can't get in, I swear to you. Landlord's coming first thing tomorrow to install new locks, okay? Let's go look. You'll feel better. Safer. I promise. I'll go first, okay? And then even if they somehow impossibly broke in, they'll have to go through me."

Cas's face scrunches up. His hand settles over his eyes. "I don't want them to go through you."

Dean is still holding his hands up in surrender. "They won't. Nobody's here but you, me, and Sam." His chin lowers as he looks around for his phone. "Here, I'll call him and he'll come back and we'll all go look at the doors together, okay, and if you want to move more stuff to block them, that's fine with me. Maybe we could even go to a hotel for the rest of the night."

Cas shakes his head. "That's a waste of money."

Dean is dialing Sam. "I don't care. Whatever makes you feel safe, Cas, I'll do it." Sam answers. "Can you come back to the room for a minute? Cas is worried about you. Yeah, just a second and then we're gonna go check all the doors again. Yeah." Dean hangs up.

Sam is at the doorframe a moment later, "I'm okay, Cas. You wanna check the doors?"

Cas nods, following Sam as he steps toward the front door.

The couch is in front of it. Their one and only couch. And a dresser on top of it. Cas can barely see the door. It doesn't make him feel any safer.

Dean and Sam lead him around to the back door. It's blocked with a bookcase and some of Dean's weights. Cas just stares. Could someone push through that? Several someones, yeah, probably.

"See, Cas. No one's gettin' in. We're safe." Dean is hovering beside him, not too close. Just close enough that Cas can feel his presence.

Cas just stares.

"Let's go back to bed, huh?"

This time Cas really doesn't cry. He breathes, smooth and slow. And hopes that he'll wake to find it was only a nightmare.


End file.
